Shout
by The Modern Sorcerer
Summary: Harry wasn't as defenceless as people wanted to believe; on his first visit to Diagon Alley he discovers something that changes him in more ways than one and unleashes a power far beyond that of magic. Those who wish to do him harm must beware, for the Dragonborn comes.
1. Diagon Alley

**Shout** _– Harry Potter/Skyrim_

 _Based off DZ2's_ **New Powers** _challenge._

 **Plot:** _Harry wasn't as defenceless as people wanted to believe; on his first visit to Diagon Alley he discovers something that changes him in more ways than one and unleashes a power far beyond that of magic. Those who wish to do him harm must beware, for the Dragonborn comes._

* * *

 _ **SHOUT**_

* * *

One wild card ride later and Harry was standing on the front steps of Gringotts, blinking in the nearly blinding sunlight.

Hand brushing up against the pocket containing his bulging pouch of galleons, Harry looked around for some hint of where he should run to first, the gold in his pocket singing for him to spend it all. He may not have known how much galleons there were to a 'muggle' pound, but he knew that he had more money in his pocket alone than he'd had his entire life… and he had more money in his vault than the Dursleys could ever dream of.

And either Harry was going insane, or the gold was also chanting quietly as well as singing… thrumming through his ears was this voice chanting in a language he couldn't recognise, something in his blood itself _begging_ for him to follow the voice.

"Might as well get yer uniform," Hagrid said slowly, gesturing with a massive hand towards a store called _'Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions'_. "Listen, Harry," the large man added nervously, "would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a quick pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate 'em Gringotts carts".

"Huh?" Harry asked dumbly, finally pulling his mind away from the chanting long enough to recognise the huge man had spoken.

Hagrid blinked at him for a moment before sighing, "Yeh head in fer yeh robes," the man instructed as he pointed at Madam Malkin's, "I'm off fer a moment or two. I'll be back, promise, just have a quick errand to run".

"Oh, right," Harry murmured, head swinging around to stare in the direction the chanting was coming from. "I'll see you soon then Hagrid".

"Right," Hagrid agreed, Harry ignoring what he said next in favour of setting off in pursuit of the enthralling chant.

Dismissing the way that Hagrid was calling after him, Harry kept moving in the direction of the voice, something deep inside his chest almost… almost _purring…_ at the unfamiliar language. Weaving through the crowd with an experience learned from avoiding people back at school, Harry eventually found himself standing in front of a run-down building with faded paint, the door tucked into the alleyway between a shop selling supplies for a sport called 'Quidditch' and a store selling stationary items like quills and ink.

Swallowing nervously as he moved down the alleyway, Harry pushed open the door, flinching at the loud tingling of the bell above it. Opening his mouth to ask if anyone were around the seemingly empty store, Harry froze as he realised the volume of the chanting had increased ten-fold, his eyes darting straight to an alcove that had been curtained off by what seemed to be the furred skin of a deer. After looking around for the store's owner one more time, Harry steeled himself and headed towards the alcove and the chanting behind it, raising a hand to the deer-skin and pulling it back before he could talk himself out of it.

There, resting on a tall podium Harry wasn't even sure he could reach, was a book.

Covered in pitch-black snakeskin and without a title or any form of writing on it, the book was thick and looked so old Harry would turn it to dust with a poorly aimed sneeze.

And more importantly, it was the source of the loud chanting that occupied the entirety of Harry's thoughts.

Stepping forward and up onto the dais the podium was on, Harry approached the book and pushed up onto the tips of his toes to stare down at the black cover. As he watched, a single word-rune appeared on the cover with a flash of blue-gold light, Harry's hand rising to brush across the surface of the warm rune as his mouth opened to speak it.

" _Dovah_ ".

The moment the word fell from his lips; the golden blue light was latching onto his hand and was crawling up his arm, the chanting cutting off instantly as he fearfully tried to tear his arm away. His hand remaining glued to the black cover of the book, the now burning light reached his shoulder and was now making its way up his neck, forcing its way down his throat as it continued to spread towards his chest before stabbing into where his heart would be. A scream of pain trying and failing to push its way past the light in his throat, Harry's body went limp and he collapsed forward against the podium and the book resting upon it.

And then it was over.

Gasping for air as he remained leaning across the book, too exhausted to pull himself away from the probably cursed book, the last thing Harry expected was to hear a woman's voice saying "That'll be 5 galleons".

Pushing away from the podium, Harry spun around to see a woman seated in a comfy looking armchair, a red hood with a single white stripe down the middle pulled low over her eyes. She couldn't see, he wasn't sure how he knew that, but even though her face was aimed in his direction Harry just knew that she was blind.

"What is it?" Harry found himself asking slowly, his throat raw and scratchy, "What did it do to me?"

"It unlocked a power deep within you," the blind woman admitted simply, "One far beyond the comprehension of the wizards we are surrounded by".

"But what is it?" Harry pressed, his hand already reaching for the moneybag in his pocket.

"It's the collected power of beings far more powerful than ourselves".

"What beings?" he asked, looking around the room curiously. There were things that seemed so much more impressive than his – the – book, a creepy looking sword both taller and wider than Harry with veins going up and down its surface and an eye blinking at him slowly. There was a charred and burned helmet with the letters 'N7' printed on their side. A small silver cylinder lay on a cushion beside Harry, a black button on its side. And just within arms-reach on the wall beyond it, a metal gauntlet with a red-orange gem inset into it rested on a small shelf.

The corner of the woman's lip tugged up slightly, "For five gold coins, you could have your answer".

Looking down at the five galleons already waiting in his hand, Harry crossed the room and placed them into the woman's waiting palm, jumping slightly as something nudged his foot. Glancing down at his new book, he glanced between it and the now blank wall that the alcove had once been set in, turning with a frown to face the blind woman only to find an empty chair.

Picking his book up and holding it to his chest, Harry looked around the store a final time before heading towards the door. He no longer wanted to be there, he had his book, and he'd never need anything again…

* * *

 _ **SHOUT**_

* * *

Reclining back in her seat, the blind woman felt her mouth twitching up into a smirk as the door swung shut behind young Harry Potter, her eyes dead to this world but not to the next.

" _Our hero, our hero,  
Claims a warrior's heart"._

She sung softly under her breath as she raised her teacup to sip from it gently.

" _I tell you, I tell you,  
The Dragonborn comes"._


	2. Philosopher's Stone

**Shout** _– Harry Potter/Skyrim_

 _Based off DZ2's_ **New Powers** _challenge._

 **Plot:** _Harry wasn't as defenceless as people wanted to believe; on his first visit to Diagon Alley he discovers something that changes him in more ways than one and unleashes a power far beyond that of magic. Those who wish to do him harm must beware, for the Dragonborn comes._

* * *

 _ **SHOUT**_

* * *

Sniffling as she wiped her face down with her robe sleeves, Hermione Granger pulled her wand from her pocket and held it out before her.

" _Lumos_ "

Watching as light shone from the tip of her wand, Hermione felt some of the pain from Weasley's words earlier that day slipping away. She was a Witch, a darn good one at that, and just because the red-headed boy couldn't manage to cast a simple cantrip didn't mean that she was any less his superior because of her blood.

She was better than him, and they both knew it. She deserved to be here.

Shaking it off and cancelling her spell, Hermione pocketed her wand and unlatched the door to her cubicle, pausing for a moment at the shuffling sound she could hear in the bathroom beyond. Assuming it was just another student; she swung open the cubicle door and stepped out into the bathroom, freezing at the sight of the huge mountain troll standing in the doorway.

The book she'd read about them, ' _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ ', hadn't described them properly. They were magical creatures of immense strength and unbeatable stupidity, and were said to reach up to twelve feet high, weighing around a ton. What the book failed to mention however, was the smell of rotting socks and dead fish that followed them, and the look of savage blood-lust in the troll's eyes as it peered down at her.

Unable to stop the whimper that slipped from her mouth, Hermione stepped back into the cubicle and closed the door, recognising a mere second later how useless that action had truly been. Dropping to her knees, she instead tried to crawl back into the corner of the cubicle, only now realising that she was alone in a bathroom with nobody knowing where she was. In that moment, it didn't matter that she didn't know how a troll got into what she'd been told was the 'safest place in all of Britain', all that mattered was that only thing between her and it was a piece of flimsy wood.

A scream was torn from her lips as the cubicle exploded around her, leaving her cowering back further, trying to squeeze as much of herself into the corner as she could, the troll standing over her as it pulled it's club back and raised it over its head. Moving in what felt like slow motion, Hermione watched as the troll brought its club down, a muffled shout from the door proving to be her only salvation as a rippling shockwave slammed into the troll and lifted it off its feet to throw it into the wall.

Sitting there, frozen in shock, it took the troll beginning to climb to its feet to knock Hermione out of her daze. Pushing herself up, she clambered over the remains of the cubicle and rushed towards the door, faltering only slightly at the sight of the infamous Harry Potter standing alone in the doorway. Allowing the Boy-Who-Lived to grab her arm and pull her behind him, she watched as he didn't remove his faintly glowing eyes from the now standing troll.

"Harry!" she hissed, tugging at his robe sleeve as the troll picked up its club again. "We need to go. Now!"

Harry just snorted instead, yanking his arm free of her hand and shaking his head. "I'll not run from this _raan_ ," he muttered under his breath. As the troll charged forward, Hermione watched as Harry merely raised his chin and, radiating power, spoke just two words.

" _Zun Haal_ ".

As the words fell from his lips, she watched a ripple of power exploding from his body, washing over the troll that roared angrily as its club was torn from its grasp and thrown back to lodge itself in the wall behind it.

"Oh my god," Hermione blurted in shock, looking between the wandless Harry and the confused looking troll.

"Actually, my name is Harry," the Boy-Who-Lived corrected innocently, still not looking away from the troll which shook it's head before rearing back to roar at them. Whimpering embarrassingly again at the fear-inducing sound, Hermione could only stand there and watch as Harry made an amused sound before saying "My turn".

Watching in horror as Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, Hermione made a noise at the back of her throat as he stepped forward and screamed " _Fus Ro Dah_!" back at the troll, the same rippling shockwave from before erupting from his mouth and slamming into the troll, hurling it back into the wall with a sickening crack.

"I win," Harry deadpanned when the troll didn't stir, turning on his heel and striding from the bathroom before Hermione had time to react, leaving her cowering against the wall for a moment before she was sprinting after her rescuer.

"How- how did you _do_ that?" she demanded as she caught up with the boy who so far had confused most of Hogwarts by being the opposite of what they'd expected. "You didn't have a wand, and you did all _that_ by just _speaking_!"

"Yup".

"How?" Hermione pressed, annoyance filling her as Harry didn't say anything else. She appreciated the fact that he'd saved her, and she would definitely make it up to the boy, but couldn't he at least tell her _how_ he'd done it?

Glancing at her from the corner of his eye, her fellow Gryffindor just smiled innocently at her, "Haven't you heard? I'm the Boy-Who-Lived".

* * *

 _ **SHOUT**_

* * *

It was a truly magnificent mirror, reaching up to the ceiling of the unused classroom, an expensive looking golden frame standing on two clawed feet surrounding it. Along the top, there was something carved into the frame, carvings that Harry felt a flicker of hope upon seeing.

Disappointment flooded him as he realised what the carvings said, the writing _'Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi'_ being merely English reflected backwards as if through a mirror, and not the Dovah-Zul runes from his book as he'd hoped.

Frowning slightly as a thought struck him, Harry slowly stepped in front of the mirror, blinking at his reflection as he took in the hair moving as in an unseen breeze and the almost incandescent light shining from behind his eyes.

"Huh," he grunted out simply, turning and heading from the room as he pulled his invisibility cloak back over his head. He might as well go back to Gryffindor Tower for the night; he didn't doubt Filch and Snape would be hovering around the library waiting to catch their intruder. He could continue his search for information about Dovah-Zul tomorrow night.

He had time.

* * *

 _ **SHOUT**_

* * *

"I don't understand… is the Stone _inside_ the mirror? Should I break it?"

Eyes flicking between Quirrell's back and the mirror, Harry mind raced to figure out how he could get the Philosopher's Stone before Quirrell getting it first or figuring out what he was up to.

This was why he liked Hermione. She was smart, she was challenging, and she pushed him to do his best when he couldn't see himself possibly going further. And _that_ was why he couldn't help but hear Hermione's voice echoing through his head as he thought, a reminder of the blonde idiot Malfoy's attempt at challenging him to a duel at midnight.

 _'You can't duel him Harry, you're a first year. All you can do is shoot sparks and yell at him in another language!'_

While Hermione's words were still true, Harry not knowing any more spells than the simple cantrips he'd been taught in classes, Harry _did_ have his ability to 'yell at him in another language'. And it didn't really matter that Harry only knew a few phrases and words in Dovah-Zul, he still knew enough that he'd have the element of surprise should Quirrell try something.

"Use the boy".

Freezing for a moment in shock, Harry couldn't fight as Quirrell spun around and snapped his fingers, the ropes surrounding Harry tightening as they lifted off the ground and floated down to rest at Quirrell's side. "Look in the mirror, boy," the fake professor ordered snappishly, "Look into the mirror and tell me what you see".

Taking a deep breath and almost choking on the funny smell emanating from Quirrell's turban, Harry turned his head to stare into the mirror, focusing on his own reflection and not that of Quirrell.

His first thought was that he needed to eat more, that he was too pale and skinny. But then his reflection smirked at him, his eyes shining brightly as he reached into his pocket to pull out a blood-red stone. Baring his teeth as he grinned at him, Harry could only watch as a wisp of smoke slipped out of the corner of his mouth as his reflection pocketed the Stone, Harry not reacting as he felt a weight landing in his own pocket.

Reaching up with his hand, Mirror-Harry started drawing on the glass before him, a series of familiar runes in Dovah-Zul glowing brightly as Harry drank them in greedily.

"Well?" demanded Quirrell, when Harry didn't speak, "What do you see?"

"I see fire," he breathed out, slowly turning his head to face Quirrell as he tapped into the restless indescribable power residing in his chest, a familiar chanting filling his ears as he smirked at the man with glowing eyes.

" _Yol"_

Almost instantly fire exploded between them, Harry hitting the ground roughly as Quirrell was thrown back by the cone of flames that poured from his mouth. The ropes just falling off of him, he shrugged them off and climbed to his feet, watching as Quirrell tripped over and started trying to roll about and put the fire out, his wand lying on the floor.

Reaching out slowly, Harry snapped the ex-professor's wand with a booted foot, biting back the urge to hurl as the smell of burnt flesh filled the air. Not wanting to watch Quirrell dying any longer, he turned and started towards the door, somehow confident that the flame barrier would let him pass. Just reaching the door, an unearthly shriek from behind him made Harry freeze, spinning around to see a black wraith rising up out of Quirrell's body, hovering there for a moment before diving towards Harry who turned and dove through the fire wall.

" _Expecto Patronum_!"

Following the spell, a ghostly bird made of silver light shot over Harry, tearing into the wraith that was forced to retreat up through the ceiling of the chamber as a set of blinding green robes appeared beside him.

"Harry? Harry!" Professor Dumbledore's voice called, sounding as if from a distance as Harry felt his body going limp, the strain of using such a powerful Thu'um before he was ready for it sending him spiralling into the black realm of sleep.


	3. Chamber of Secrets

**Shout** _– Harry Potter/Skyrim_

 _Based off DZ2's_ **New Powers** _challenge._

 **Plot:** _Harry wasn't as defenceless as people wanted to believe; on his first visit to Diagon Alley he discovers something that changes him in more ways than one and unleashes a power far beyond that of magic. Those who wish to do him harm must beware, for the Dragonborn comes._

* * *

 _ **SHOUT**_

* * *

Harry stared at the ugly little creature standing on his bed, his head tilting slightly as he likened it to the Goblins in Gringotts, even if its bulging green eyes looked rather comical in its smaller head.

Huh… comical… Hermione had been having quite the effect on his vocabulary it seemed.

"Harry Potter!" the creature squeaked as it jumped off his bed, bowing and banging its long nose into the ground. "So long," the thing continued as it rubbed the tip of its nose, "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir! Much an honour it is…" the 'Dobby' whispered in its high-pitched voice.

Staring at the Dobby for a moment longer, Harry just reached out behind him to push his door shut cautiously, "Thanks".

"Harry Potter thanks Dobby!" the creature squeaked as Harry circled around it to the leather-bound book on his desk, fingers reaching out to brush across its surface as he quickly checked to make sure that the Dobby hadn't touched it. "He thanks _Dobby_ , a simple house-elf?"

"Elf?" Harry blurted, head snapping around to stare at the Dobby, "You don't look like an elf," he corrected before frowning and tilting his head a little. "Well… not like any elf _I've_ seen before".

"Mister Harry Potter has seen other elveses before?" Dobby asked, before shaking his head and making his ears flap around his face. "Dobby is not heres to waste the Great Harry Potter's time!" the house-elf reminded itself firmly as it reached up to twist its ears, "Dobby is here to tell – no, to warn! The Great Harry Potter that… that…"

"That _what_ , Dobby?" Harry demanded coldly, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as he heard a loud laugh echoing up from downstairs.

"That Harry Potter must _not_ return to Hogwarts!"

Harry stared at the house-elf for a moment longer before snorting, turning his back on the creature and gently opening his Book, eyes drifting across the words on the page even though he didn't actually read any of them. " _Niid_ ," he declared bluntly, not turning back to the house-elf behind him, his mind and heart a swirling mass of confusion and disbelief.

He _had_ to return to Hogwarts! Without Hogwarts he'd never discover what the Dovah-Zul was. Without Hogwarts he'd lose his first and only friend, Hermione Granger. Without Hogwarts, he wouldn't have a place that he could belong. And despite the way that Harry needed nothing but his wand and the Book, he felt like he'd never be happy if he didn't have Hermione around; the bushy-haired girl had grown on him since he'd challenged the troll and inadvertently saved her life.

"Dobby is being sorry, Harry Potter," the house-elf squeaked, "But Dobby bes not understanding you".

"I said, 'No', house-elf," Harry spat, turning a glare on the nervous seeming creature, "I _will_ be going back to Hogwarts, it's my home".

Dobby straightened up a bit, trying to stare Harry down until the black-haired boy tapped into the power within his chest, and his eyes began glowing dangerously. "If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, then he will be in mortal danger!" Dobby exclaimed, shaking his head as he shrunk away from Harry. "Mister Harry Potter Sir is too good! Too great to be in danger! He must stay where he is safe!"

"Why isn't Hogwarts safe?" Harry demanded coldly, not releasing the power in his veins.

"There… there is a plot," the house-elf choked out, twisting his ears to a level that _had_ to be painful. "A plot to make terrible things happen at Hogwarts!"

"Tell me it and I can stop it," Harry bartered, "I am Dovahkiin, I _can_ stop it".

"Dobby knows not, what Doovakim is, Harry Potter Sir," Dobby apologised, shaking his head again. "Harry Potter must say he will not go back to Hogwarts".

Staring at the house elf for a moment longer, Harry just shook his head once. "No".

"Then Harry Potter leaves Dobby no choice," the house-elf said apologetically.

As the house-elf turned to the door, Harry cleared his throat, making Dobby falter for a moment. " _Ru_ ," he snarled, pushing his power behind the word and watching as Dobby's eyes shone briefly with a faint red light, before the house-elf whimpered in terror and vanished with a loud crack.

Perhaps he should feel guilty for using the Thu'um on the 'innocent' house-elf like that, but Dobby had been going to stop him from returning to Hogwarts. Harry just knew he was. And he couldn't allow that, Harry couldn't _not_ return to the place he now considered home, to where his _briinah_ – his sister – was.

He'd stop this 'plot' too, it was his duty too, he was Dovahkiin.

Now he only had to figure out what exactly a Dovahkiin was…

* * *

 _ **SHOUT**_

* * *

"Dovah?"

"No," Harry corrected instantly, not looking up from his essay on the 'many blunders – er wonders – of Gilderoy Lockhart', "It's Do- _vah_ ".

"Dovah?"

" _Do-vah_ "

"Do-vah?"

"No… _do-vah_ "

"That's what I'm saying!" Hermione spat, "DO-vah!"

"That's definitely _not_ what you're saying," Harry argued, shoving the essay away and leaning back in his chair to stare at a frustrated looking Hermione. "You're saying it all wrong. The 'Do' is stronger and deeper, while the 'vah' is sharp and cutting".

"It's not as easy as speaking English, Harry," Hermione ground out.

Rolling his eyes, he couldn't help but point out that "It _isn't_ English".

"Which is why it's so difficult!" Hermione exclaimed, freezing seconds later and looking around the library nervously for the librarian. "Without knowing the pronunciations and the sentence structure, I can't make an educated guess on what to say!" she hissed furiously, "There's no guide of articulation at all! You don't even know if _you're_ saying it right!"

His head snapping back up to stare at her, Hermione stuttered for a moment as his eyes shone darkly. "I mean I'm sure you are," she corrected quickly, "It obviously wouldn't work if you weren't, I'm just saying if it weren't for that then we'd have no idea," she explained making Harry relax again.

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, Harry thinking for just a split second that it'd be so much easier for her if she knew how to read Dovah-Zul first. Quickly chasing that thought from his mind, and ordering himself to never think of it again, Harry instead shifted slowly for a moment before clearing his throat.

"I think it's based off a Scandinavian language," he confessed, not looking up from his essay as he heard Hermione's quill freezing.

He may not be ready to share his book or power with anyone, but if Hermione could figure it out on her own then she deserved it as much as he did.

* * *

 _ **SHOUT**_

* * *

"Now Harry, when Draco points his wand at you, you do _this_ ".

Watching as the pathetic excuse for a wizard attempted a complicated-looking wiggle with his wand, Harry couldn't help but mimic Snape's sneer from earlier as Lockhart promptly dropped his wand.

"My wand," Lockhart blurted as he quickly picked it up again, sending Harry a nervous look, "She's just a little over-excited".

Resisting the urge to just hex the pansy (Lockhart, not Malfoy) before turning to hex the _other_ pansy (okay… maybe Malfoy as well), Harry just forced a tight smile onto his face as he flicked his own wand, sending the hesitantly-beaming blonde flying off the table and onto the cold hard ground with a whispered spell.

"Sorry Professor," he drawled as he shot his wand a look of mock disappointment, "She's just a little over-excited".

Turning to face Malfoy, Harry watched as a smirking Snape whispered something in the boy's ear, sending Harry a torn expression that was both disgusted and impressed as he moved off the duelling platform.

"Scared?" Malfoy tried to whisper quietly.

Raising an eyebrow at the boy as he took aim with his wand, Harry just snorted out a disbelieving "Of you?"

"On the count of three," Lockhart was saying, trying to draw attention back to himself and away from the showdown happening between the two second year rivals. "Three… two… one… go!"

"SERPENSORTIA!"

The end of Malfoy's wand exploded, Harry watching as a long black snake shot from the end of it, quickly raising itself up and hissing in response to the screams of the crowd.

"I said _disarm only_!" Lockhart shouted.

Ignoring the snake for a moment, Harry steadied his aim and took a deep breath before shouting " _EXPELLIARMUS_!" and watching as the red flash of light tore Malfoy's wand from his hand and sent it spiralling across the Great Hall.

" _Stop_ " Harry called out as the black snake went for some Hufflepuff, making the snake obey instantly, " _Strike your summoner's hand_ ".

Automatically, the snake spun around and shot towards Malfoy, the horrified looking boy screaming like a girl as the snake lunged at him, a loud crack filling the air as the serpent was blasted into the air by a flash of light originating from Lockhart's wand.

Watching as the snake hit the ground unharmed, Harry just rolled his eyes. " _Go for the ponce instead_ ," he ordered bluntly, hiding his smirk as the snake obeyed and started for the now stuttering Lockhart.

If Harry hadn't already been certain that Gilderoy Lockhart was a fraud, then this farce of a duelling club would have confirmed it for him. The man was ridiculous, he truly was, he didn't even have the power to back up his claims let alone the skills.

As another bolt of light hit the snake, this time from Snape's wand, it caused the serpent to thrash about as it dissolved into nothing.

Ignoring the stares from everybody in the room, Harry sneered at the trembling Malfoy. "So much for the House of Snakes," he muttered just loud enough to be heard, striding over to the edge of the platform and dropping down as he headed towards the door.

"What a waste of time," he added as he felt Hermione joining him in the hall.

"Well _I_ learnt a new spell," Hermione corrected with a huff.

"I thought you didn't like snakes," Harry countered, glancing at her from the corner of his eye as they started on their usual path to the library.

"I meant the disarming charm," said Hermione awkwardly, "I could never get the wand movements right".

"A shame. I thought ' _serpensortia_ ' was rather useful," Harry pointed out, waiting for Hermione to say what was obviously on her mind.

"That was parseltongue Harry!" his bushy-haired best friend finally blurted.

"I know," was all Harry could say in response, shrugging simply when Hermione's head whipped around to stare at him. "I looked up all forms of magical language the moment I got to Hogwarts," he explained slowly, after glancing around to ensure the corridor they were in was otherwise empty. "I found reference to parseltongue in the library, and figured I must be able to speak that too since I set a boa constrictor on my cousin the year before Hogwarts".

Hermione didn't reply instantly, the two of them walking in a comfortable silence as his friend thought on his explanation.

"You're not afraid that it's dark?" she asked softly.

"How is speaking French evil?" Harry countered, "Besides the obvious at least".

"We're not talking about French here Harry," Hermione snapped.

"Really?" he drawled, coming to a stop and forcing Hermione to copy him. "I thought you were accusing me of being dark because I can _speak another language_. Or do I need to remind you of what _other_ languages I can speak?"

The expression on Hermione's face was almost identical to Professor McGonagall's unimpressed look, similar enough that it made him double-take in shock. "You _know_ I wasn't accusing you of anything," she said sternly, sounding hurt enough that it actually made Harry feel a little guilty for even thinking it. "But all the books _I_ read said it was a dark ability, I was just asking if you cared about that or not".

Sighing and tugging his only friend into a quick hug, Harry grimaced as Hermione took the chance to try squeeze the air from his lungs. "Like I said, how can speaking another language be a dark ability?" he pointed out with a shrug, "I don't see the big deal. It's not like I'm going around using dark magic or hurting anyone, it's just another language".

"You mean it's not like you're going around hurting anyone other than Malfoy or Professor Lockhart?" Hermione argued with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, I'm not hurting anyone important," Harry corrected, leaving his arm around Hermione's shoulders as he turned them both and continued on their journey to the library.

Huffing in annoyance, Hermione didn't stop him as she leaned into his side. "You know," she began thoughtfully as they paused to wait for a staircase, "This duelling club wasn't actually a bad idea".

Rolling his eyes at her, Harry muttered just loudly enough for her to hear that "Letting Lockhart run it however _was_ ".

"I'm just saying," Hermione defended as she kindly ignored his professional dislike for the Professor. "Maybe we should look up some defensive spells? Just in case something like last year happens again".

"What?" Harry asked innocently, "Something like the Chamber of Secrets being opened?"

* * *

 _ **SHOUT**_

* * *

"Harry, Harry, Harry".

"Don't touch me," the 'Harry' in question growled, glancing down at Lockhart's hand on his shoulder before lifting glowing eyes up to glare at the blonde man.

As Lockhart quickly pulled his hand back, he shot Harry what was supposed to be a charming smile as he stepped aside to let him into the office covered in hundreds of pictures of Gilderoy Lockhart beaming down at them. "Welcome, to my humble office, Harry," Lockhart declared, waving a hand around the revolting room, "Lovely isn't it, just a little taste of home, one could say".

"Only if they were mentally unstable, sir," Harry dead-panned, fixing a charming smile of his own onto his face as Lockhart's faltered.

"Ah, I see how it is," Lockhart chuckled as he strode over to his desk, "You're going to funny route then. Clever, very clever in fact," the man praised, "But you'll have to be careful not to make any off-colour jokes, that is a black stain you'll _never_ get off your reputation".

"Funny. My reputation so far seems to precede me," Harry drawled as he remained standing in the doorway, "Or so I thought".

"The love of the public is a very fickle thing Harry," Lockhart agreed, not seeming to understand the danger in Harry's voice as he gestured the raven-haired Dovahkiin into his office.

"Indeed it is, sir. Everyone else seems to get the picture, that I want to be left alone, that is," he explained calmly, "Except for you. I can't help but wonder if you merely lack the self-preservation, or if you really _are_ as stupid as your personality implies".

As Lockhart faltered at that, Harry let the strength of the Dovah flare up inside him again, his eyes lighting up with power as a smirk twisted his face. "I'm going to say this once sir. _Leave me alone_ ".

"I don't think you get how publicity works, Potter," Lockhart said with a scowl, "We need to work together to keep our fame alight".

"I don't need your help to keep things alight, Professor," Harry refused simply, "Haven't you heard?" he asked as he stepped forward to lean across Lockhart's desk threateningly. "Oh how the _'poor Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-Cursed'_ remains plagued by Voldemort's horrible actions against his family, cursing him to a life forever tainted by the various terrible dark magicks he had at his disposal? And how we should all take a moment to thank the young Harry Potter for his sacrifices for the rest of us".

He didn't know who Rita Skeeter was. But Harry _did_ know that if the journalist had taken that article any other way than painting him as the victim, perhaps painting him as dark instead, then he would have destroyed both her and Lockhart for leaking the story to the press. Of course, Lockhart had only been trying to repair his reputation after Harry's public humiliation of him, but it had a secondary benefit that Harry couldn't argue was useful.

"Let me repeat myself, Professor," Harry interrupted as Lockhart began stuttering, "Since you _do_ seem to be particularly dense".

Backing away from the man's desk, Harry concentrated on the stacks of letters something told him that were the focus of this 'detention' – the one he'd been dragged to by McGonagall after ignoring the past ten summons.

" _Yol_ ".

As the letters burst into wildly crackling flames, Harry smirked as Lockhart threw himself into action, trying to blow them out with his mouth instead of his wand as he squealed.

"You really _are_ pathetic," Harry mused to himself, catching the Professor's attention again. "You'll never be as famous as me, Professor," he taunted bluntly as he turned and started towards the door to the office – detention over in his mind, "Leave me alone, and I _won't_ expose you as a fraud to the public," he warned over his shoulder.

"I have better things to do than deal with you".

* * *

 _ **SHOUT**_

* * *

Staring down the spirit opposite him, it was all Harry could do to not start screaming in Dovah-Zul, tearing the Chamber apart with the power of his voice.

This _boy_ had dared to harm Hermione. Sending his basilisk to petrify her, before sending his tool to whisk her frozen body down into the Chamber in an attempt to lure Harry into his trap for some reason. And when somebody touched what was his, Harry didn't care about playing fair. He was going to _destroy_ Riddle, and Merlin-be-damned he was going to _enjoy_ it.

"I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and bring your Mudblood friend down here to wait," Riddle was saying proudly, "She struggled and cried, very very boring. But there's not long now," he continued, "Soon what little is left of her life-force will be mine, drained into me through the diary, and I'll be free of its drab pages".

"But first," Riddle half-whispered, "Before I am free to finish you off, I must ask you something?"

When Harry didn't respond beyond clenching his hands into fists, his mind too busy trying to find a way to defeat the spirit he couldn't even touch to listen to Riddle's ramblings. The boy in question decided to take his silence as approval and asked it anyway.

"How is it that _you_ – a reasonably skinny boy, with absolutely _no_ magical talent – managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time?" Riddle demanded, "How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while all of my great power was scattered to the winds?"

Attention snapping back to the boy opposite him, Harry could only tilt his head slowly. "You're Voldemort," he realised, connecting the boy's words to what he'd read in the library about the Dark Lord being the parseltongue Heir of Slytherin.

"I am," Riddle confessed, raising Ginny's wand and writing _'Tom Marvolo Riddle'_ in the air, before slashing his wand and causing the letters to become rearranged into _'I am Lord Voldemort'_.

"How quaint".

Riddle froze for a moment, before his face twisted into rage at Harry's simple dismissal. "Quaint?" he hissed out furiously, "You dare to call the greatest sorcerer of all time quaint?"

"Do you want to know a secret, Riddle?" Harry interrupted before the man could get into _another_ rant. "Do you want to know how I survived all those years ago?"

"Speak," Riddle ordered after a moment's pause. "The longer you speak, the longer you live".

"The secret is, _I don't care_ ," Harry admitted bluntly, stepping forward to smirk at the spirit. "I don't care about how I survived. I don't care about who you really are. And to think, I didn't even care about your basilisk petrifying all the students, not until you targeted my friend to get to me".

And to be fair, that was truly Harry's greatest secret. Hermione had praised him for being able to withstand all the student's jeering and insults over his being parseltongue without flinching. She didn't realise he no longer cared about anything bar the two of them. He hadn't since he'd discovered the power of the Thu'um. All that mattered to him now was mastering the Dovah-Zul. He was obsessed; he knew that, just like he knew that the Book had changed who he was at his very core. He didn't care though, it had made him stronger, it had given him strength where no-one would.

"And you're wrong, you know," he added as Riddle just stared at him. "I'm not some 'reasonably skinny boy, with absolutely _no_ magical talent'".

"Then what are you?" Riddle asked mockingly before shaking his head, "It matters not," he declared as he turned to face the sculpture of who Harry assumed was Salazar Slytherin himself. " _Speak to me Slytherin. Greatest of the Hogwarts Four_ ," he hissed, Harry watching as the face's mouth opened and something began shifting deep within the dark tunnel.

"Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort; Heir of Slytherin and Dark Lord," Riddle began as he turned back to face Harry.

"Against the famous Harry Potter; Boy-Who-Lived, Defeater of Voldemort," Harry interrupted with a smirk as the basilisk slid from the tunnel, meeting the serpent's eyes as his own turned slitted like a dragon's in response. "And Dovahkiin".


End file.
